Breaking Vampire Babies: A Sociopathic Love Story
by jenny starseed
Summary: Twilight/Sherlock fusion crack fic. Moriarty is pregnant with Sherlock's vampire baby. Moriarty isn't very happy and Sherlock doesn't really care. After all, Mummy always wanted grandchildren. I actually read Breaking Dawn and I had to channel my frustration somewhere…into crack fic.


Jim Moriarty waddled towards the sofa. His large stomach was making him bloated and his vampire spawn was kicking like a kangaroo inside his...womb? Stomach? I don't know, this is fucking MPREG baby! This is the first and last Twilight/Sherlock/Mpreg fic this writer will ever write, so start suspending your disbelief. Anyway, Jim gingerly sat on the sofa. He was breathing heavily and he looked like he was 8 months pregnant. But in reality, he and Sherlock only had sex six weeks ago. How does this work? Ask Stephanie Meyer, she made up the rules that I can't be assed to remember.

"You fucking CUNT!" gasped Jim. "This is the last time you will ever fuck my sorry arse."

Sherlock sat across him, his eyes raking over Jim's body with a practised look of boredom. "Oh my love. Did you really think just because I'm a 150 year old virgin vampire meant that I couldn't impregnate you with my miracle vampiric sperm. I suppose I conveniently forgot to tell you that yes, male pregnancy is possible when copulating with a vampire. Boring human biological details such as ovaries, wombs and placentas do not apply to vampire procreation."

"You!" Jim spat out. His eyes were wide and doing that bulging thing Sherlock liked so much. "I will kill this child and burn your heart! Why am I the pregnant one? Jimmy isn't playing now! "

"And you call yourself a genius," said Sherlock with a flippant wave of the hand. "Idiot. Children prefer to grow in warm bodies, not my lithe ethereal cold dead body. Mycroft and I decided it was best to have you carry the baby—"

"MYCROFT? YOU PLANNED THIS?"

"...all that yummy blood flowing through and around our baby...best thing really...I don't want to ruin my figure..." trails Sherlock with a hungry, wistful look on his face before realizing that Jim had just asked him a question that would inspire an evil laugh. Vampires love evil laughs.

Sherlock decided this was the time to laugh evilly before returning to his elegantly bored self again. "Oh yes, Mycroft. It would be stupid to do this without him. He's one of the few who can get the Volturi's approval for my scheme. You can't do anything without their tedious approval. The Volturi have an annoying habit of killing vampires who don't follow their rules of secrecy. Mycroft had to pull several favours. We have some Italian refugee vampires coming here to live with us for a couple of weeks. I hope you don't mind. It does pay to have international vampire connections, as well as filling a minor role in the British Government."

Sherlock stared impassively at the panting Jim. His eyes were no longer bulging and half mad. Jim was trying to look vulnerable and motherly, he ended up looking like a demented mother hen who would eat her chicks if given half the chance.

Sherlock sniffed the air. His eyes narrowed. "Jim, darling, you weren't visiting your werewolf friend, were you?" Jim held his silence. He looked downright petulant, which was all Sherlock needed for an answer.

Sherlock's mouth curved into a lazy smile. "Shooting cans with vintage air-rifles again? Really? An aspiring werewolf criminal assassin that is so typically...sociopathic. I thought you married me for my creative sociopathic tendencies. You have to admit, impregnating you and having our child rip your insides to pieces when you go into labour in two weeks is delightfully original."

Jim put on his serpent smile that Sherlock always liked. "Fuck you, my darling," he said, his voice dripping with poisoned honey. "Couldn't we return to our games again? I strap your brother to some bombs and you will have 48 hours to solve my puzzle before KABLOO-WEE! (He spread his arms wide when he said KABLOO-WEE!) Your brother in a million sparkly pieces scattered around London."

Sherlock scoffed. "How boring. You've already blown up Mycroft seventeen times and every time, he regenerates back into his fat self again. Albeit less sparkly each time, he still resents you for that. That is why he agreed to help me with the Volturi. They won't interfere with our happy child."

"Yes, that's true," admitted Jim. He got up with a seductive look on his face, slithering towards Sherlock as if he was a demented snake, which was quite a feat, considering how big his stomach was. "But if we are going to be original, how about we abort this baby? It will be fun and I don't mind the pain...just promise me you'll put the fetus on the examination table for me to burn with hydrochloric acid. I will let you choose the method of abortion you want. I really won't mind."

Jim smiled manically at Sherlock. Sherlock was tempted. He always wanted to see if he could do an old fashioned 1950s style abortion, with hot water and a rubber tube up Jim's arse. But no, he promised Mummy that he would settle with a nice man and have a family. He sighed.

"Unfortunately, I can't allow that," Sherlock replied petulantly. "Mummy will be so disappointed. Our little Ressemyford Sherrington Holmes the Second—"

"—the second?" spat out Jim, disbelieving. It looked it like was all too much for the poor human sociopath mastermind criminal to take in judging by the way his left eye twitched.

"Yes, the child will be named after my great uncle," said Sherlock. He raised an eyebrow. "Any objection?"

Jim gave Sherlock a toothy smile. "No darling, continue."

"Ressemyford Sherrington Holmes the Second will be the first ever half human, half-vampire, 100% abominable devil spawn to rival Rosemary's Baby to come into this world. And I specially engineered the child genetically to grow into full adult hood in three years," explained Sherlock. He folded his hands under his chin and gave Jim a smug smile. "That's quite a scientific accomplishment if I do say so myself."

Jim leaned forward in exaggerated excitement, bouncing and clapping his hands. "My dear, tell me more."

Sherlock laughed evilly before returning to his bored self again. "I think not. I'm not a complete idiot. I've kept my notes encrypted with a high security code. Do you really think I would give you the information to use against our child? Our child is an immortal creation of art. This child will be my life's greatest scientific masterpiece."

Jim frowned. He didn't like this. Wasn't he supposed to be the villain here? Not the victim of some 21st century Frankenstein vampire spawn experiment of a mad part-time consulting detective, full-time sexy vampire by the ridiculous name of Sherlock Holmes? Jim thought not. He was supposed to be the clever one. But being clever was so difficult, especially when he was very hormonal with cravings for raw steak distracting him. Time to do what came naturally to him: inflict cringe worthy violence.

He lunged toward Sherlock, knocking him to the ground. He pushed Sherlock flat on his back, and straddled his hips before bringing out a retractable knife from his trouser pocket. Like a true villain, he laughed manically, holding the sharp, gleaming blade directly over his large, round belly in a ridiculously grandiose pose. Sherlock's eyes narrowed before he head-butted Jim and flipped him over on his back with his super-human strength. Sherlock kissed Jim hard and dirty while he plunged a needle into Jim's neck. Jim hissed in pain and fell unconscious with a crazed look of surprise that remained on his face.

Sherlock sat up, still straddling Jim's hips while he examined the needle before licking the blood off the tip, tasting the sweet, sweet glorious blood of his lover/mortal enemy. Just a preview of the sweet things to come! Sherlock wondered if it would be unhygienic to lick the blood off the floor. Such a waste and he was so hungry too. He put the needle down and got off Jim, brushed his trousers and sat on the sofa. He pulled out his mobile from his jacket pocket and called Mycroft.

"Hello, Mycroft? Yes, it has happened. Right, you told me so. You don't have to be so insufferably smug about it. Bring in your men, plan B is in effect. Remember, absolutely no forceps, this will be a natural birth."

Mycroft was boring him with irrelevant details again. While nudging Jim's feet with his own, he silently counted to ten in Latin before interrupting. "If Moriarty does not have a birth canal, be assured that I will improvise one for him. And don't bother with sterilizing the instruments; his infected innards will be interesting to my future studies. Oh and bring in your MI-6 specialist...yes THAT one. I will not revive Moriarty with my vampire blood and Lestrade does not look highly upon consulting detectives who create their own crime scenes."

He hung up the phone and put it back in his trouser pocket. What a waste. He and Jim could have had something special. He wandered over to the decanter of blood mixed with wine that he saved for stressful situations such as this. He took a long drink, savouring the coppery sweetness that filled him with warmth and euphoria. Jim was still on the ground, insensate. The peaceful look didn't seem to suit him. That was no matter. He'd be awake in no time and that is when the fun would begin. Now, if only Sherlock could remember where he put those special surgical instruments.


End file.
